


Scientific Curiosity

by Sleepless_Malice



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Family Feels, Father-Son Relationship, Forge work, Gen, Gift Fic, Good Parent Fëanor, Science, Valinor, Winter, pre-Flight of the Noldor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:01:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28176579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sleepless_Malice/pseuds/Sleepless_Malice
Summary: “Coincidences do not exist,” Fëanáro stated, walking over towards the anvil. “The word itself is a lazy excuse, used for everything that cannot be explained. A lazy excuse for lazy folk, unwilling to look beyond what is obvious.”“Of course,” Curufinwë agreed. “You know I do not believe in coincidences.”Whilst the snow piles up in Tirion, Fëanor and Curufin experiment together in the forge.—written for Tolkien Secret Santa 2020
Relationships: Curufin | Curufinwë & Fëanor | Curufinwë
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23
Collections: Tolkien Secret Santa 2020





	Scientific Curiosity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ariana_El](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ariana_El/gifts).



> Many thanks to [bunn @ AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunn/pseuds/bunn) for beta reading this story for me.

The snow fell, and fell, and fell, blending with Tirion’s buildings, made out of white marble. Snowfall was rare in this part of Aman, and for the snow not to melt away immediately after falling was even rarer. It had been snowing for days and no end was in sight.

Fëanáro was not surprised to hear children’s laughter from outside. No matter how different their usual interests were, snow somehow united them. It brought a smile to his face for he, too, had loved the snow when he was a little boy.

Whilst outside, night descended and icy winds howled, Fëanáro had withdrawn into his forge to work on his latest project. A while ago, caused by external circumstances—the growing rift between Ñolofinwë and himself—Fëanáro had decided to focus some of his time away from his father’s court to work on improving the blades he had been forging all his life. Success never comes without envy. He spoke little, if at all, of the improvements he had already made.

Fëanáro’s life was no sung tale, devoid of struggles and fights, no matter how privileged he was. Creating was an escape for him, something that put his reeling thoughts at rest. A reckoning, of a kind—with himself. Beautiful moments, where he could lose himself in the world of science, discovering and exploring what no other has ever studied before. His interests were many and varied, but forging was always dearest to his heart. So it was unsurprising that he was to be found in the forge more often than not of late—trying to enhance the strength and the performance of his blades.

Through trial and error, Fëanor refined his approach. He devised improved alloys, investigated how to temper them for improved strength and lighter blades. Although Fëanáro was successful, he was not content with the results—good was never satisfying enough.

Fëanáro kept exact track of all the experiments he has carried out so far: the metals he used for each alloy, the exact amount of them, when and where he had acquired them. Additionally, he noted the weather conditions outside, the humidity and if Telperion or Laurelin spread its light. Although, perhaps, it was superstitious nonsense, Fëanáro had the impression that experiments carried out under Telperion’s light were more prone to fail. 

The scroll has grown endless over the course of time, turned into an incomprehensible collection of information. Although his calligraphy and sketches are flawless, Fëanáro doubted that anyone would understand his experimentation journal without explanation. Curufinwë, maybe, the sole exception. He often visited Fëanáro late at night in the forge—his hunger to learn and refine his knowledge matching Fëanor’s own.

*

Fëanáro narrowed his eyes when Curufinwë came in to put a small leather bag on the anvil. “What is this?”

“Bones and ashes,” Curufin said, leaning against the anvil. Casual, with a smile playing about his lips. “I asked Tyelko to supply me with some of it after going hunting with Oromë.”

“Bones and ashes,” Fëanáro repeated, half incredulous, half curious He knew that Tyelkormo collected an abundance of these rather useless things, but didn’t know that Curufinwë has taken an interest in hunting and bones as well. Maybe, he hadn’t, but came with an idea. “What would I want with them?” 

Curufinwë regarded him, his expression coming alive with creative passion. “Carry out another experiment,” he suggested. “The last time we spoke about that project of yours and the progress you made you told me that you the best results so far were obtained when you added fragments of burnt leaves to the alloy. We do not know yet what caused the strength of the alloy created that specific day. Maybe, it was a mere coincidence, however—”

Fëanáro cut him off. “Coincidences do not exist,” he stated, walking over towards the anvil. “The word itself is a lazy excuse, used for everything that cannot be explained. A lazy excuse for lazy folk, unwilling to look beyond what is obvious.”

“Of course,” Curufinwë agreed. “You know I do not believe in coincidences.”

“With the temperatures used for the alloys, even bone should be easily reduced to ash, to something else,” he said, encouraged by his father’s nod. “If ground beforehand into small particles, it could be evenly distributed within the melted iron.”

“Or simply added beforehand,” Fëanáro mused. “And melt everything together.”

Curufinwë nodded, smiling now. “Ideally, both approaches would be pursued and compared afterwards if any differences occur,” he said, throwing the little bag with the bones towards Fëanáro. “What do you think?”

Fëanáro caught it. “A good idea.”

Excitement coiled in Fëanáro’s guts. He knew it was unwise to start the experiments right away, without proper planning; but his thoughts were already fixed on the idea, an oh-so-familiar itch in his fingers. “How much is there?” he asked after a while without opening the bag.

“Roughly two hands full,” Curufinwë told him. “But it shouldn’t be a problem to order more.”

“Do you have time to help me plan?” Fëanáro wondered, sitting down at the small desk where he usually drew his sketches.

Curufinwë laughed. “Do you know what time it is?” he asked, giving the answer himself without awaiting his father’s reply. “It isn’t even close to early morning yet. I wouldn’t have entered if I hadn’t seen the lamp light. So obviously, I have time.”

It wasn’t unusual for Fëanáro to work late into the night; or rather into the next day, time just slipping through his fingers as his mind was fixed on something. His family has long adjusted to that.

Curufinwë walked towards the desk and sat down opposite of Fëanáro, curiosity aflame in his eyes. Fëanáro was certain it matched his own.

And so they began to design a set of experiments in the low light of the lamps, discussing what amount of bones in relation to the metals should be used, and how small the bones should possibly be ground, making adjustments to their ideas every now and then.

When they have agreed on six individual sets of experiments, the snow was still falling outside but morning has already come, time just slipping by with their thoughts fixed on their new idea.

*

The following days, Fëanáro did not allow himself to rest, nor did he want to rest. Once his curiosity was piqued, it was impossible to let go.

But it was worth it; it always was.

The blades he had created with the addition of the bone material showed superior strength in comparison to everything Fëanáro has ever forged. Just as he had suspected, adding previously ground bone to the raw materials at the start worked better than adding it to the molten metal—and was far easier to handle, too. The distribution was more homogenous like this, resulting in tempered steel that exhibit the same properties throughout the entire length, not brittle at all; a raw material perfectly suited to Fëanáro’s needs.

Without showing Curufinwë the initial results, promising as they were, Fëanáro set up the experiment again to prove it wasn’t mere coincidence. In order to minimize possible errors, Fëanor began the experiment at the same hour of the day and with the exact same amount of raw materials, in the exact same containers he had initially used.

It wasn’t coincidence—far from it: the strength and performance of the steel was exactly reproducible, much more than Fëanáro had anticipated it to be.

It brought a smile to his lips, and content to his heart. Curufinwë would be so delighted to hear his suggestion had worked so well. Fëanáro could not wait to share every detail with him, certain that Curufinwë wants to plan new experiments right away.

*


End file.
